The Crescent Moon Kingdoms, home to djenn and ghuls, holy warriors and heretics, are at the boiling point of a power struggle between the iron- fisted Khalif and the mysterious master thief known as the Falcon Prince. In the midst of this brewing rebellion a series of brutal supernatural murders strikes at the heart of the Kingdoms. It is up to a handful of heroes to learn the truth behind these killings.

When these few — Doctor Adoulla Makhslood, “the last real ghul hunter in the great city of Dhamsawaat,” Raseed bas Raseed, Adoulla’s young assistant, and Zamia Badawi, Protector of the Band — learn that the murders and the Falcon Prince’s brewing revolution are connected, the companions must race against time-and struggle against their own misgivings-to save the life of a vicious despot. In so doing they discover a plot for the Throne of the Crescent Moon that threatens to turn Dhamsawaat, and the world itself, into a blood-soaked ruin.

Beginning with Lon Chaney’s 1925 Phantom of the Opera (or, by some reckonings, his 1923 The Hunchback of Notre Dame) and continuing well into the 1950s, Universal Studios dominated the world of horror film. The dozens of movies produced over this span ingrained some of the most iconic images of monster-dom ever produced upon the collective memory of America and, eventually, the world. But at times this unprecedented and subsequently unmatched cultural influence has gone down some weird and surprising paths. The end results have ranged from wrestling video games to Great American Novels.

Jack Kirby’s massive contributions to comics are common knowledge. His influential pulp-epic motifs. The revolutionary dynamism of his art. But here I’d like to talk about a more specific set of “King” Kirby’s innovations — his use of “minority” protagonists. Whether stressing the multi-ethnic makeup of America or revising racist preconceptions of Africa, Kirby’s work challenged comics’ unremarked upon WASPiness and white supremacy in quiet and not-so-quiet ways. Here are a few key figures he used to do so.

In recent years, science fiction, fantasy, and superhero movies seem to have shifted definitively from nerd fare that spawns the occasional blockbuster to Hollywood’s big-budget bread and butter. Before our current Age of the Geek, A-list productions in speculative genres were relatively few and far between. “Back in my day” my friends and I jumped up and down in anticipation of Tim Burton’s Batman movie, but even half-goofy fare like George Lucas’s Willow or Sam Raimi’s Darkman represented a rare enough scratching of an itch that we swallowed it uncritically, grateful for almost any swords, spaceships or supers that showed up in theaters.

Obviously, things have changed. Every summer more and more Marvel and DC properties come to life in multiplexes across the country. Massively popular young adult novels starring vampires and sorcerers spawn immensely successful film franchises. And franchises get rebooted and rebooted. By some estimations (including, to a degree, my own) this has led to a glut. Read the comments thread of any given sequel/reboot announcement and you’ll find geeks bemoaning the loss of a chimerical “originality.”

Welcome to the inaugural edition of “Saladin’s Sundrarium,” a new weekly feature here on Tor.com! The “rules,” such as they are, are simple: Each week I’ll be bringing you a brazenly subjective and personal list of Top Five (or Six or Seven or…) ridiculously specific geekicana.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to let me know what a nerd culture genius I am for including Item X and/or what a moron I am for failing to include Item Y. My hope here is to nurture a good-naturedly boisterous discussion of things geekical that is somewhere between a Wordsworthian-Coleridgean dialogue and a dwarven tavern brawl. So please do have at it in the comments!

Anyway, without further ado, I give you:

Five Iconic 1st Edition AD&D Illustrations Proving David A. Trampier Is One of the Best Fantasy Artists of All Time